


Reunion

by onnasannomiya



Series: Proposition 'Verse [3]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe-Office, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, M/M, Pining, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 11:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13523544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onnasannomiya/pseuds/onnasannomiya
Summary: Set three years after the events of Complication. Just when he least expected it, Miong comes face to face again with the man he had wronged but has never stopped wanting. Will he lose him again, or will he be able to hold onto him this time?





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This story has plagued me for over a month, and it proved twice as long and as self-indulgent as my other two stories combined. I blame Miong-his Feelings were all over the place. Anyway...

The Mandatory Continuing Legal Education requirement for practicing lawyers in the Philippines is a pointless waste of his time, thinks Miong uncharitably. He does get the rationale behind the requirement, and he also welcomes downtime as much as the next lawyer. But he’s already a name partner in his own firm, and after a long day spent doing nothing but listening to tedious lectures about topics that he recalls having sat through during the last compliance period, he’s feeling more than a little restless. He’s never been the type of person comfortable with sitting still for long. He’d much rather be preparing for another case.

 

He's opted to complete his MCLE requirements for the year at a resort hotel in Nasugbu because he felt like a change of scene. Yet since the lecture had dragged on for the entire day, lunch excluded, Miong hardly had the chance to take a smoke break, much less take a stroll along the beach and breathe in the sea air. And he had signed up for a two-day lecture series, so tomorrow would bring more of the same. Finally, the last lecture ends. Miong gets up from his seat and glances at his watch. Exactly 6 p.m. That gives him plenty of time to take his long-overdue smoke break and check his emails before having dinner. Then out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of a familiar figure heading out of the conference hall. _Could it be…_

 

Miong springs into action, lengthening his strides to catch up with the familiar figure that he hasn’t seen in over three years. Once he has left the conference hall and stepped out into the corridor, he decides to call the attention of the figure that he’s following before he could disappear and leave Miong wondering if his mind was just playing tricks on him. “Attorney Mabini!”

 

Pole- Atty. Apolinario Mabini-turns around at the sound of his name being called. His eyes widen in shock when he recognizes Miong. For a moment that felt like an eternity, Miong fears that Pole will give him the cold shoulder and continue on his way towards the elevators. Yet mercifully, Pole composes himself, schooling his features into a neutral expression. “Mr. Aguinaldo,” he says smoothly. “This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

 

Part of Miong still can’t believe this is happening. He wants, more than anything, to pull Pole into his arms and hold him close. Breathe his scent in and run his hands all over him, make sure that he’s real. Miong restrains himself because he has long lost the right to do any of those things, if he ever did. But still, he _wants._ “Likewise. But I’m glad you look well. Do you have any plans for tonight?” he asks, trying to betray none of the _want_ and keeping his tone light and casual.

 

Pole looks more than a little wary at that, but at least he had stayed this long to hear Miong out. Miong takes that to be a good sign. “Nothing in particular,” Pole says at last. “Is there anything the matter?”

 

 _Now or never,_ Miong thinks, so he seizes his chance. “I was just wondering if you can join me for dinner,” he suggests. At Pole’s doubtful look, Miong hastily adds, “I promise not to keep you for very long.”

 

“I would like to go back to my room first, but sure, I’ll meet you at the restaurant by seven.” Pole answers. “Is that all right?”

 

 _More than all right,_ Miong wants to say, but he shouldn’t seem too eager, lest he scare Pole off. “Sure. See you later.” He smiles as he says it, to show Pole that he intends no harm by the invitation, that he has no agenda. He doesn’t know if Pole can sense that, but Pole just gives him a nod and goes on his way.

 

Miong watches Pole’s retreating back for a while before the other man disappeared from his view. Everything between them had started out as just another lark for him. He had fantasized about being the one to take his prim and proper assistant apart not long after Pole began working for him. Having him in bed, Miong thought, would be a refreshing change from the bored, pouty-lipped socialites he’s used to sleeping with, as well as an enjoyable diversion from spending long hours in the boardroom dealing with the other partners who practically bow and scrape in his presence because of who his late father had been, but would constantly try to undermine him at every turn. Then, the opportunity presented itself when word got around to him that his assistant was looking to take on extra work due to his mother’s illness. Love was never part of the plan when Miong offered Pole the contract. Yet in the bitterest of ironies, he had fallen hard anyway, but Pole resigned almost immediately once Miong had revealed the true extent of his need for him. And here he is, three years later, unable to move on, unable to banish Pole from both his mind and heart.

During the countless sleepless nights Miong spent regretting that he had ever made Pole sign that wretched contract, a voice inside him would taunt, _Would you really prefer it that way? Would you rather go your whole life without knowing the scent of his hair, the taste of his lips, the feel of his body beneath yours, the sounds he makes when you hit that perfect spot inside of him?_

There are moments when Miong wouldn’t trade that knowledge, those memories of Pole, for anything else in the world. _I had him. He was worth any price. I was his first lover. Nothing could take that away from me._ Yet there are moments, too, during which those same memories and the longing that they inevitably cause, would make Miong wish that he had never known Apolinario Mabini at all.

 

He had tried to get over Pole, he really did. He had dated and bedded a fair number of women during the past three years. Once or twice, he had even gone out driving to discreet gay clubs cruising for men, which he hadn’t done since law school. Yet whatever release he can find with either men or women always proves temporary; afterwards, his thoughts will still drift to Pole and what they could have had. Apolinario Mabini’s middle name might as well be “indelible.”

 

Miong decides to forego his cigarette break, taking the elevator up to his own hotel room in order to prepare for dinner. He showers briskly and after some deliberation, changes into a cobalt-blue Oxford shirt and charcoal-colored slacks. He finds himself taking more care with his appearance that he usually bothers with, and feels ridiculous for it. _Get yourself together,_ he thinks. _As if it would matter to Pole what you look like. This is not a date._ Even if he wishes it were one.

 

He arrives at the restaurant a full ten minutes before 7 p.m. He picks a table that’s relatively secluded but still gives him a good view of the restaurant doors so that he can easily spot Pole once he comes in. He scrolls through his iPhone and checks his emails, but he can’t seem to concentrate on anything. When he gives up and pockets the iPhone, he sees Pole hesitantly approaching the table. He waves to get Pole’s attention and motions him to take the seat across from him. “Order whatever you want,” Miong says. “Consider it a belated treat for topping the bar exams last year.”

 

“I’ll have the steak, thank you,” Pole replies after he’d taken his seat and skimmed through the menu. He’s also changed into a white button-down shirt and jeans, and if Miong’s not mistaken, his hair still looks a bit damp from a shower. He looks fresh and lovely; Miong’s heart aches at the sight of him. “There’s no need to mention that anymore. It’s old news.”

 

“Just the same, congratulations. I always thought you had it in you,” Miong tells Pole after he had ordered steaks for them both and requesting the waiter to bring a bottle of red wine to the table. “To toast your success.” He had felt a surge of pride, misplaced as it was, when he had read about Pole’s achievement in the newspaper one morning. Not that he needed validation from the outside world regarding his personal choices, but the news just confirmed what he had realized long before. That he had fallen in love with someone extraordinary, one of a kind. However, knowing this has also made the heartbreak of losing Pole hurt even deeper.

 

“I had a less demanding workload at my last job, so I had enough time to review. I was well-prepared, that was all.” Pole says off-handedly, as though coming first in one of the most notoriously difficult professional licensure exams in the country wasn’t a big deal. He takes a tentative sip from his wineglass before setting it down. “But thank you, sir. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me. I’m not your boss anymore.” Miong had asked Pole before, more than once, to call him by his given name when they’re out of the office. But Pole has never complied- had always called him “sir.” Not Emilio, much less Miong- the nickname that only members of his immediate family call him. Even now, he still wonders what his nickname would sound like coming from Pole’s lips. He brushes the thought aside. “I’m sure all the major law firms had been falling all over themselves for the chance to hire you. Where are you working right now?”

 

Pole hands Miong a business card. “My bosses were the ones who convinced me to get my MCLE credits here,” he explained. “I wanted to take it somewhere nearer, but they told me I’ve been working too hard lately, and that I needed a break. I plan to visit my family in Tanauan tomorrow, after the lectures are over.”

 

Miong nods absently. _Bonifacio, de Jesus, and Associates._ They’re a small firm, especially in comparison to his own. But both Andres Bonifacio and Gregoria de Jesus have built up formidable reputations, as individual lawyers and as a couple. Since he mostly handles commercial litigation, Miong has never actually come up against Bonifacio in court, but he has heard that the other man was a force to be reckoned with when it comes to labor-related civil and criminal cases, as well as a tough negotiator during labor dispute arbitration sessions. As for Gregoria de Jesus, she has become a well-known champion for women’s legal rights, often handling pro bono cases on rape, sexual harassment, gender discrimination, human trafficking, and domestic violence. Still, he asks Pole, “Why them? I’m sure you must have had more lucrative offers.”

 

“I like the kind of work that we do,” Pole replies. “Besides, money can buy a lot of things, but it ultimately can’t buy peace of mind.” Miong grows still at that. Was Pole alluding to the time Miong had paid him off? “But enough about me, sir. How are you doing? How are things in the office?”

 

It was an innocuous question. Miong knows that Pole is just asking that to be polite. Yet, how to answer it without giving himself away? “My latest assistant is incompetent as hell,” he blurts out instead.

 

Pole purses his lips disapprovingly. “Probably because you’ve been running the poor soul ragged since day one. Maybe you should try cutting him or her some slack. Your assistant might perform better under less pressure.”

 

That puts Miong on the defensive. “It’s not a crime to have high standards. Besides, you managed to cope just fine.”

 

“It was all I could do to keep up,” Pole objects ruefully.

 

“Maybe you’ve ruined me for other assistants,” Miong hears himself say. He immediately regrets it once the words were out. Pole looks away from Miong and turns his attention to his food, like he suddenly finds it very interesting. “I would appreciate it if you can refrain from saying things like that, sir.”

 

“I’m sorry. I’ll consider what you said earlier. Pretend I said nothing,” Miong replies gruffly. An awkward silence ensues between them. After a while, the silence becomes unendurable for Miong, so he tries to grasp for something, anything to say that will make Pole stay for a little longer. Which is probably why he ends up asking something as inane as “So, what do you think of the actor who played you in _Maalaala Mo Kaya?”_

Pole startles at that, wrinkling his nose in distaste. How _adorable._ “Did you really have to bring that up? That was embarrassing. I don’t get why anyone would find my life story to be interesting enough to be put on TV, let alone watch it.” He shakes his head. “To answer your question, I made it a point not to watch that episode. But one thing’s for sure- I’m nowhere near as good-looking as that actor. Not even close.”

 

Coming from anybody else, Pole’s disclaimer would have sounded like false modesty, except for the matter-of-fact way he had delivered it. Miong had caught that episode on TV purely by chance, one Saturday night when he had temporarily switched the channel from CNN Philippines. It was typical _Maalaala Mo Kaya-_ the story of a poor provincial boy who made good. Still, Miong was glad he was able to watch it- it gave him a much better idea of the odds Pole had to overcome to get to where he is now. Personally, he does see a slight resemblance between Pole and the actor who played him, but Miong finds the actor to be rather…bland. Despite the other man’s more conventional, clean-cut good looks, he lacked the indefinable quality that makes the real Apolinario Mabini so compelling. Not that he can say that to Pole out loud. So he just shrugs and says dismissively, “He’s nothing special.”

 

There are so many questions running through Miong’s mind, so many questions he wants to ask Pole. _Have you found someone else? Are you happy? Do you ever stop to think about me, even once in a while? Is there even the remotest possibility that you can give me a chance to earn my way back to you?_ But of course, Pole wouldn’t want to hear any of them. Besides, Miong isn’t actually sure if he can stand to find out the answers to those questions in the first place.

 

Someone as remarkable as Pole must have already found another by now. Most likely, somebody who’s his intellectual equal, who can make him laugh. Miong recalls the man he saw Pole with at the lobby of his firm’s office building, three years ago. The very thought of that man gives Miong the urge to throw something breakable-maybe his wineglass- against a wall. Miong had been standing too far away to make out their conversation, but just from watching their body language, it was obvious that the two of them were quite familiar with each other, has had history together.

 

By then, Miong had already seen Pole in far more intimate moments, but he had never, ever seen Pole look so relaxed and at ease. At least, not around him. What’s more, he was actually _smiling._ And at the sight of that beguiling smile, it struck Miong that he would be more than willing to pay a lot more, on top of what he had paid for Pole’s body, just to have all of Pole’s smiles to be for him instead. Everyday.

It was at that moment when the realization dawned on Miong, with the certainty of the sun rising in the east. _I want his heart._

But then, the man Pole was talking to had taken his hand and squeezed it. That made Miong seethe in frustration and jealousy. _No one touches what’s mine._ Which was why, although that had been a bad move in hindsight, he had sought to stake his claim over Pole by taking him in his office the minute the two of them were alone. Only to be rebuffed when Miong had proposed that they set aside the contract for something more lasting and genuine. The dismay in Pole’s eyes upon hearing Miong declare his love for him had hurt like nothing else.

 

Reminding himself to stay in the present while Pole’s still in front of him, Miong ventures, “I should probably warn my associates to watch out for you. Even I don’t think I would want to take you on myself.” For sure, Pole would be a deadly opponent. Miong had managed to hold on to his position of managing partner previously held by his late father through sheer tenacity and cunning, but he’s not certain if that would prevail against Pole’s brilliance. Still, it would be _something_ to match wits and wills against Pole in a courtroom. Miong’s torn about whether he should dread or welcome that.

 

“That’s very unlikely to happen,” Pole responds. “But if it ever does, I will give no quarter.” His lips curve upwards into a tiny, nearly imperceptible smile. It’s the closest thing to a smile that Pole has ever granted Miong, and Miong wants, so badly, to kiss it off those distracting lips.

 

“I would expect nothing less.” Miong wonders if this is how it’s going to be between Pole and him moving forward; only seeing each other on MCLE seminars, legal conferences, or at the courthouse if they both have hearings. Exchanging perfunctory pleasantries before going off their respective ways. It’s the best that Miong would ever get- at least Pole had been civil to him when he could just as easily have been scornful or hostile. But not to touch Pole again, not to kiss him again…It’s the worst deprivation Miong could imagine, and he has no one but himself to blame for it.

 

Does Pole still remember the last night they spent together, under the contract? Out of all the memories of what they’d done, Miong’s mind keeps replaying images from that night, especially during times when he couldn’t be bothered to seek out relief with others and had to satisfy himself temporarily with his hand. He had originally intended to be extra rough to Pole that night in his Dark Chamber, to punish Pole for leaving him. Which was irrational, Miong knows, since Pole did hold up his end of the bargain. But Miong couldn’t go through with it in the end. Instead, he had Pole in his bedroom, drawing everything out and been as tender and worshipful with him as possible. He had repeatedly murmured, “Be with me,” in between caressing and kissing Pole wherever he can reach. Pretending to himself that he can make Pole stay if Miong makes love to him in the right way. Letting his every touch speak for itself and convey the words Miong couldn’t say no matter how much he wanted to: _Mahal kita. Kailangan kita._

And the morning after that, Miong had made it a point to wake up earlier than Pole and gone out of his house for a run, staying out for as long as he could until he was sure Pole has left. Just so he doesn’t have to watch him go.

 

Maybe Pole could sense where Miong’s train of thought had taken him, since he says, “Thank you for the dinner, Mr. Aguinaldo. But I should be going now. Good night.” Then, he gets up from his seat, but is stopped from leaving by Miong’s hand gripping his wrist.

 

“Wait.” When Pole looks askance at him, Miong says, “There’s something else I need to tell you, before you go.” Pole nods, though he doesn’t sit back down. Still, he seems inclined to listen, so Miong takes what he knows to be his last chance to set things right between them, before Pole slips away for good.

 

“What I did to you three years ago was despicable,” Miong begins, taking both of Pole’s hands into his. “I abused my position to get what I wanted out of you, and I also used your loved ones as leverage so that you’ll have no choice but to accept. What’s worse, I never really regretted it until I realized that wasn’t enough. All of it was wrong and I’m sorry.”

 

Pole remains silent, but he hasn’t pulled his hands away or cut Miong off, so Miong continues. “There’s no rationalization or justification for what I did. If I could take it all back, I would.” He’s surprised at himself for saying so, but he means it. No amount of gratification Miong got out of that contract was worth having caused Pole anguish. “I would definitely understand if you hate me or decide never to speak to me again. I deserve it. But if ever you can find it in yourself to forgive me, I swear, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Not that I’m expecting anything,” he quickly interjects. “I just thought you should know,” Miong finishes, taking a deep breath to brace himself for Pole’s inevitable rejection.

 

A full minute passes before Pole finally speaks again. “It would take a lifetime, yes,” he agrees gravely. “Are you ready for it…Miong?” To Miong’s ears, his name on Pole’s lips sounded like an invitation and a challenge in equal parts.

 

Hope and doubt warred in Miong’s heart, making it beat faster. _A lifetime_ , Pole had said. And he had called Miong by his name at last. “Does that mean you forgive me?” he asks incredulously, praying inwardly that he had not misunderstood Pole’s meaning.

 

“I can be convinced,” Pole replies. And then he smiles, a slow, beautiful smile that Miong was caught unprepared for. The effect on him was devastating. And just like that, what had been a seemingly endless night for Miong was transformed into day.

 

“I’ll be very convincing,” Miong promises. And because he cannot wait any longer, he reels Pole into his arms and breathes the word “Mahal,” over his lips, before kissing him with all the pent-up ardor of the past three years.

 

Pole breaks off the kiss, probably because they were still in a public place, but he remains flush against Miong. He leans even closer and whispers, “Here’s how you can start.” After a brief yet pregnant pause, he says, “Take me up to your room and make love to me. Right now.”

 

Miong has to stifle a groan at that. He feels too much, all at once: joy, elation, disbelief, and the familiar resurgence of desire. “Are you sure?” He asks Pole, afraid that this was just a dream that he would inevitably wake up from.

 

“Do you need me to repeat myself?” Pole clearly intended that to sound coy, but a comely flush had risen up to his cheeks, and Miong could hear the underlying hint of impatience in Pole’s tone. That convinces him, more than anything. Not only has Pole forgiven Miong, he wants him right back. For Miong, the thrill of it was beyond compare.

 

Miong didn’t need to be told twice. “I’ve got you,” he assures Pole, voice going gravelly with intent. “Just let me bill out first,” he adds, resenting that he has to part from Pole to take care of something as mundane as the bill at a moment like this. Once he has settled the bill and left a hefty tip for the waiter, he takes Pole’s hand back in his with alacrity and says, “Come with me.”

 

The air between them was thick with lust and anticipation as Miong and Pole left the restaurant and proceeded to the elevators. If not for the presence of other people when they entered the elevator, Miong would have pressed Pole against the wall and started with the foreplay right then and there. As it is, he’s so impatient that he’s practically crawling out of his skin. He wills the elevator to move up faster.

 

Finally, the elevator stops at his floor. Seeing no one at the corridor, a mischievous impulse seizes Miong. After they’ve stepped out of the elevator, he grabs Pole by the waist and scoops him up into a bridal carry. That earns him an outraged yelp from Pole. “Miong, put me down! This is so undignified.”

 

Miong just ignores that and keeps walking with Pole in his arms. “So concerned about your dignity,” he teases, “when you won’t get to keep much of it after I’m done with you.” He drawls out the last sentence lazily, so that Pole will have no doubt as to what he meant.

 

Pole unsuccessfully tries to swat Miong on the head in response. “Don’t be smug yet. How are you supposed to open the door if you hold on to me like this?”

 

 _Oh._ So much for being suave. But by some sleight of hand that he wouldn’t have been able to pull off in other circumstances, Miong did manage to get the keycard from out of his pocket and opens the door, pushing past it into his room and locking it behind him.

 

Pole reaches for Miong as soon as Miong sets him down on the bed, returning his kisses with equal fervor. In between heated kisses, they fumbled gracelessly for each other’s clothes. Undressing each other took more time than either of them wanted, since neither Pole nor Miong could resist kissing and touching every inch of exposed skin coming into their view during the process. Eventually they were able to rid each other of the last of their clothing, and they moaned in unison at the slide of bare skin against their own.

 

Miong braces himself above Pole on the bed, settling between his thighs and holding his wrists down on either side of him so that Pole will have no leverage. He pauses to take in the sight of Pole completely bared to his possessive gaze. Reacquainting himself with the lean, lithe lines of Pole’s body, with the miles upon miles of smooth, enticing pale skin just asking to be marked all over, with the dusky pink nipples practically calling out for Miong to play with and suckle. Pole’s cock is already half-hard from the attention, and because Miong had drawn up his legs up and apart, he could see the dark, waiting pucker of Pole’s tight little hole. A veritable banquet of sensuality has been laid out just for him, and for a moment, Miong is unsure where to begin, because greedy and insatiable as he is, he wants _everything._

“Are you planning on just looking?” Pole’s voice was dry, but Miong could see that the rosy flush on his cheeks was spreading downwards to his neck and chest, and across his white and lovely limbs. Clearly, “just looking” was already having an effect on him.

 

“Just appreciating the view,” Miong teases him, but he’s kept Pole waiting long enough. He decides to begin by following how far down Pole’s blushes go with his teeth and tongue. He trails gentle nips and open-mouthed kisses from Pole’s jaw, to the hollow of his throat, to the expanse of his torso. He deliberately lingers on the places he remembers where Pole is most sensitive, and Pole urges him on by making delicious, incredibly sexy sounds of pure need. At the same time, Miong grinds down on Pole’s length with his own rock-hard cock.

 

Miong could probably bring them both off just by them rutting into each other like horny teenagers, especially since Pole is being delightfully responsive to his ministrations. Yet although what they’re currently doing was enjoyable enough, Miong still craves _more._ He needs to reinforce his claim on Pole’s body so that it can no longer be denied, leave lasting evidence that Pole is _his_ and that Miong belonged to him in turn. He then notices the pre-come beading out of Pole’s straining, now fully hard, erection. So he places a brief kiss on the patch of skin right above where Pole’s cock is curving upward against his stomach, before licking off the pearls of pre-come from its tip.

 

Pole arches up from the bed in shock, babbling in protest, _no, you can’t, I’ll come, it’ll be over too soon, Miong, stop…_ But his protests soon dissolve into more gasps and moans. He tries to sit up, hands reaching out for the top of Miong’s head in a futile effort to prevent him from sucking more of Pole’s cock. However, Pole’s fingers just ended up tangled in Miong’s hair, and he sinks back on the bed, going boneless with pleasure.

 

Miong continues to lick languidly at Pole’s cock, tonguing the tip and then along its length, before taking him entirely into his mouth. Pole need not fret about coming just from this, not when Miong fully intends to make him climax more than once tonight. For now, he leisurely enjoys the heft and solidity of Pole’s cock in his mouth, and the salty bitterness of it on his tongue. Pole doesn’t quite fuck Miong’s face, but his hips are moving unconsciously in time with Miong’s rhythm as he sucks him off. Miong slurps at Pole’s cock noisily, an obscene counterpoint to the luscious sounds Pole is making, though he knows that Pole is too far gone to be aware of the effect he has on Miong.

 

Pole’s fingers tugging harder on Miong’s hair tips him off that Pole is about to come. He was therefore prepared for the hot, silky rush of Pole’s release flooding his mouth. Miong doesn’t quite manage to swallow everything as he would’ve liked (stupid gag reflexes), but he thoroughly licks and cleans up the come that has dribbled down his chin and on his fingers. Pole stares at him as he does so, transfixed. Afterwards, he kisses Pole again to share how he’d tasted, which Pole didn’t seem to mind.

 

When they break off the kiss to catch their breaths, Pole murmurs, “We still haven’t taken care of you yet. Let's fix that.” He then takes Miong in hand and strokes his neglected cock gently and unhurriedly. Miong lets out a hiss at how good it felt when Pole rubs his thumb along the slit. Then Pole looks up at him, eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “Come inside me.”

 

Miong was not prepared for that at all. Arousal hits him anew with the force of a sledgehammer.  “Pole, are you sure?” he asks. “I didn’t bring any condoms with me. We can always do other things.” Miong had always taken precautions to make sure that he’s clean, but he doesn’t want to risk Pole either. Besides, there are plenty of other things they can do. He can open Pole up with both his fingers and tongue (he can totally get off at how shocked Pole always is when Miong eats him out), fuck between Pole’s thighs, or jerk off their erections together once Pole’s hard again. Any or all of those options are more than fine with Miong. The night is still young, and they have time.

 

“Other things can wait,” Pole says firmly. “This is what I want.” He’s splayed out indecently on the sheets, legs spread invitingly like an offering. “So, _please.”_

How can Miong refuse an offer like that? He makes a mental note to get himself tested so that he can show Pole that he hadn’t been mistaken in trusting him. Then, he leans down to claim another kiss from Pole and says, “Let me prepare you first. Be right back.” Fortunately, the bottle of hand lotion he had remembered to pack was on the bedside table, so he didn’t have to go too far. It’s not real lube, but it’ll have to do for now. Miong returns to the bed, straddling Pole and pouring hand lotion on his palm. “How do you want it?” he asks, making sure that his fingers will be well-coated with the stuff.

 

Pole bites his lower lip, reminding Miong of the inexperienced virgin he had been before Miong came along and changed all that. “I want to still feel this by tomorrow,” he admits shakily.

 

 _Christ._ Just when Miong thinks he couldn’t get any more turned on, Pole keeps proving him wrong. He looms over Pole and growls, “You still want to feel me inside you, as you listen to lectures tomorrow?”

 

Pole nods. “Yes, I want that. Now, _please,_ get on with it!”

 

Message received, loud and clear. “As you wish,” Miong croons before pressing two fingers into the delectably tight clutch of Pole’s body to speed things along. He does want to prepare Pole properly, but there’s only so much Miong can take. If he doesn’t get inside Pole soon, he might die from this endlessly sweet torment. In the meantime, he crooks his fingers to find the bundle of nerves that makes Pole’s entire body tremble from electrifying sensations with just the slightest contact. He’s rewarded with a throaty gasp from Pole once he twists his fingers against that spot.

 

Miong takes that as his cue to add a third finger to stretch Pole finger, slick him up some more for what’s to come. Yet as gratifying as it is for him to watch Pole writhe against his fingers to take more of him in, Miong can feel his self-control fraying at the edges at this point. So it was sheer relief for him to hear Pole breathlessly pant out, “I’m ready.”

 

Miong slicks himself up and gets them into position, hiking up Pole’s legs to wrap around his waist, ankles crossed behind Miong’s back. He kisses the inside of Pole’s thigh and whispers, “Brace yourself, mahal.”

 

“You called me that again.” Pole says, voice tinged with wonder. His arms come up to encircle Miong’s neck, pulling him in for a long, languorous kiss.

 

“I’ll call you that as often as you wish to hear it,” Miong promises him. With that, he lines his cock up against Pole’s entrance and presses in. The pink little pucker of Pole’s hole slowly unfurls to accept him.

 

Even though Pole has already come and Miong did take pains to prep him, Miong still encounters a fair bit of resistance as he breaches that tight ring of muscle. He takes a steadying breath as he eases himself in, working his cock into Pole in slow increments until he’s fully sheathed inside. It felt glorious for Miong to finally be surrounded by all that sublime, gripping heat. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be, nothing else he’d rather do, save for this.

 

“Move,” Pole begs when Miong bottoms out. Miong gives in, pulling out of Pole almost out of the way before rocking back in. Since he wants to last, he starts with a steady, sure rhythm. He tries to vary the tempo of his thrusts so that he would graze Pole’s most intimate spot only at intermittent moments. But every time Miong drives home into that spot, Pole keens and wails for more, so despite himself, Miong’s thrusts become more forceful and insistent.

 

It doesn’t take too long for Pole’s erection to fill up and harden again from having his prostate near-constantly stimulated, what with Miong ramming into it with almost every thrust. Even within the haze of his passion, Miong still manages to get a hand in between their bodies and strokes Pole’s cock in time with his redoubled pace. (Another time, he’ll have Pole come just from taking his cock alone, but that can keep). Miong fucks into him harder, with no more restraint or finesse, spurred on by Pole sounding even more wanton and desperate than before. He’s so beautiful in his abandon that Miong longs to keep him like this forever and block out the rest of the world from them.

 

Miong’s getting close. Pure, unfettered pleasure is building up within him and cresting like a wave that will sweep him away and carry Pole along with him, too. Perhaps Pole can sense it as well, since he gasps, “Fill me up.” That, and the thought that Pole is _his_ and they’ll never be apart again, sends Miong right over the edge. He comes inside Pole’s body with a hoarse shout, filling his beloved to the brim like what he wanted. Pole follows suit moments later, spilling into Miong’s hand, with a ragged cry of Miong’s name escaping his lips.

 

They collapse on the bed together, sticky and replete. Miong reluctantly pulls out of Pole when he feels himself beginning to soften, and rolls them both over to their sides. But he still couldn’t keep himself from gathering Pole close and tucking him against his chest. He rains soft kisses everywhere on Pole’s face- his forehead, the bridge of his nose, both his cheeks, the side of his mouth.

 

“How do you feel?” It occurs to Miong that this is the first time that he has actually asked Pole that question after sex. Previously, especially during the aftercare that followed their most intense BDSM sessions, Miong skips any questions and just goes straight to telling Pole how well he did for him, how perfectly he takes everything Miong gives him, how his body was made for Miong’s touches. He might have to rethink that.

 

Pole’s response was just one word. “Owned.”

 

The selfish, possessive part of Miong exults in that. His first instinct was to capture Pole’s mouth in a fierce kiss and assert: _yes, you belong to me, no one else._ Yet something tells Miong that’s not what Pole would need from him right now. So instead, he just kisses Pole on his shoulder and asks, “Does that scare you?”

 

“A little,“ Pole confesses.

 

“You’ve nothing to fear from me now. Not anymore,” Miong tells him soothingly. He brushes away a stray lock of Pole’s hair that had fallen across his face and cups his cheek reverently. “Do you want to know how you make me feel?”

 

At Pole’s questioning glance, Miong says simply, “Complete. Like I have everything in the world I could ever want or need.”

 

Pole stares back at him, stunned and unable to speak. Miong presses their foreheads together and implores, “Tell me I won’t lose you again, Pole. I don’t think I can bear it.”

 

Pole’s eyes on him were steady and unwavering. “You won’t lose me. I promise.”

 

Since Miong’s not really a good person, he can only suppress the selfish, possessive part of him that needs further reassurance momentarily before it resurfaces again. “You’re mine for good, right? And I won’t need restraints to keep you with me, won’t I?”

 

Pole doesn’t reply at once, and Miong fears that he might have gone too far, too soon, in mentioning the word “restraints.” But he does want Pole bound to him in all the senses of that word, not just with physical restraints, but with spoken words, written commitments, and eventually, with rings. He imagines introducing himself as Pole’s husband. But of course, all in good time. They’ll go at Pole’s pace now.

 

Pole gives Miong a considering look. “You can still use them on me occasionally,” he says, voice husky with promise. “But this time, it’ll be my free will keeping me there.”

 

Miong wonders how in the world did he finally get so lucky. If it’s of his own volition, that would make Pole’s submission to Miong in his Dark Chamber even more erotic. He’s still too sated to do anything about it, but he hopes that he can persuade Pole into another round of lovemaking once they’ve both gotten enough rest. He can hope now. How _wonderful._ For now, he settles for nuzzling Pole’s neck. “You’re too good to me, mahal. Much more than I deserve.”

 

Pole brings a hand up to thread his fingers again in Miong’s hair. He tilts Miong’s head to face him and says, “I’ll be the one to draft a contract, this time.” There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he smiles. “Since we’re starting over, I want to be courted properly. Dinner twice a week. I get to pick whatever movies we watch. I expect you to remember monthsaries and give me suitable presents, but I don’t want you spending over a thousand pesos for them. I should get the last word in every argument. If you break any of these terms, there won’t be any sex. Is that clear?”

 

Miong grins broadly at that, unable to contain his delight. Knowing that Pole has _expectations_ and _plans_ for their relationship ground and excites him at the same time. “I’m loving this new side of you,” he replies, nibbling at Pole’s earlobe. “Name your terms. I look forward to you holding me to them.”

 

“You better believe I will.” Then Pole looks down on himself and grimaces. “I won’t be able to sleep like this. I’ll go clean up. No, you can’t join me because I know how that’ll go,” he tells Miong with mock severity. “We’ll see about later, though.” With that, Pole nudges Miong away, but he does press a kiss on the corner of Miong’s mouth before getting out of bed to go to the bathroom.

 

For the first time in a long time, Miong’s eager to find out what the future holds in store. In his mind’s eye, he can already see glimpses of his and Pole’s shared future, beckoning bright and infinite. Lazy mornings spent cuddling in bed, afternoons filled with long, meandering conversations and fond, comfortable silences, and more passionate nights like this one. Miong makes two promises to himself. One, that he won’t do anything to screw up the blessing of the second chance that he’s been given. Second, that he’ll do everything in his power to protect what he and Pole will have together. He leans back against the pillows and smiles up contentedly at the ceiling as he waits for Pole to come back to their bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who might want to take issue with this ending, all I can say is that the heart wants what the hearts wants, which is reunion sex. But I might be working on a bleaker version of this ending, in which Pole doesn't forgive Miong. Let's see.


End file.
